Harbinger
by em2706
Summary: Chris was pretty well acquainted with himself and his tastes - or so he thought. Chris Sabin/Super Dragon slash, set after the show at PWG's Cruisin' For A Bruisin', January 7th, 2006. First in a series of interconnected one shots.


Chris shifted from one foot to the other impatiently, leaning back against the wall only to stand up straight again a moment later. He probably would have been pacing, if not for the fact that the small landing between the two flights of stairs didn't offer him enough space for it. To the casual observer, he would have seemed nervous - but appearances were deceptive, and there were no onlookers to arrive at that conclusion anyway.

He hadn't bothered to change out of his ring gear yet, letting the crisp air against his bare skin cool him down a little. He and B-Boy had gone for around half an hour, and although that had been an hour ago now, he was still too hot. He suspected his excitement was keeping his blood pumping and his body temperature from dropping as it should.

The night this whole thing had started had been very similar to this, he mused; he had stood here in the unlit stairwell in his ring gear and looked out of the window, the near darkness softened by the yellow light from the streetlamps outside. And then the approaching shadow had fallen across him, and he had forgotten about the view.

Chris had met Danny a few times before being booked for PWG, at IWA Mid-South. It was no secret that while Danny was there to work his bookings, he was also scouting talent, and everybody had taken it for granted that he would at least try to book Chris. He didn't. He was always civil, but he seemed to hold Chris in disdain, and although Chris was vaguely perplexed by that - he was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to cause it - he didn't think too much of it. Sometimes people just rubbed each other the wrong way.

Chris was one of the hottest talents in indy wrestling, and although he was humble about his gift for the business and never really expected people to book him at all, there were people who found Danny's lack of professional interest odd. Alex was booked for _All Nude Revue_, and while everyone was hanging out after the show, he'd asked Danny if he didn't think Chris would fit with PWG's product. Danny had said dismissively that he thought Chris looked like an asshole. According to Excalibur's retelling of the story, Alex had eventually recovered sufficiently from his laughing fit to ask, "You think Sabin's an asshole, but you booked _me_?"

While a character reference from Alex could only have hurt his cause, Joe and Daniels were present and had apparently put him over hard, because out of the blue Chris had received a call from Disco and a last minute booking for _The Earnest P. Worrell Memorial_.

Chris had done his best to make a good impression. He'd had a good match with Ricky Reyes, and generally tried to be a positive element in the locker room. Danny had been cordial and helpful, and had treated Chris exactly the same as he did everybody else, and Chris had known he was going to like working for him. He trusted Danny on an instinctive level; he was a dick, but he was a principled dick, and promoters you could rely on not to screw you over were rare.

At one point, as Chris hung out in the locker room, joking with the boys, he'd seen Dragon watching him thoughtfully. Very briefly, he wondered why, but then he'd gotten distracted by trying to figure out how he knew Dragon was watching him thoughtfully. The mask didn't exactly give a lot away.

Chris had been back a couple of weeks later for _All Star Weekend_. On night one, his match with Hero was second on the card, leaving him with a lot of time to kill - not that it had been hard, considering all the friends he had on the show. He and Alex had hidden most of Petey's stuff while he was in the ring with Jonny Storm, and along with Daniels they'd orchestrated an argument between Joe and AJ for no real reason other than the fact that AJ was pretty easy to wind up, and Joe was enough of a troll to go along with it. Eventually, Chris had left his friends behind and gone out to the stairwell to indulge himself in five minutes of peace.

Chris was a social creature and he loved hanging out with the guys, but he liked his own company too. For him, a few minutes' solitude was the equivalent of hitting the reset button on his dickhead tolerance, and since he was friends with Alex, that was important. He'd stood in front of the long window, although there wasn't a lot to look at; the JCC wasn't in a great area, and apart from a notably suspicious looking group of young men outside, all he could see was brick and concrete against the backdrop of the night sky. He'd held up his hand, looking at how the three lights outside cast its shadow in three different directions, and then he'd traced the shape of the skyline with his eyes, letting his brain shut down for a little while. Although it had registered in the back of his mind when he'd heard the door to the locker room open and close, he hadn't paid any attention to it.

It had seemed suddenly darker, and Chris had turned his head to see that the shadow he was bathed in was thrown by the slowly approaching Dragon - a commanding black shape moving against the somewhat less severe darkness behind him, the dim glow of the streetlamps glinting off his mask. Chris had smiled in greeting, but Dragon didn't stop or change his pace; he simply kept coming at Chris until Chris had backed up against the wall without realising it, its surface cold against his skin.

It had been too odd for Chris even to be confused. One moment he'd been looking out over the grimy city, and the next Dragon had had him pinned against the wall without so much as touching him. Dragon had been mere inches away, the light from outside dancing over the finely crafted details of his mask but without the strength to penetrate the gauze over his eyes, leaving him expressionless and intimidating. Slowly and deliberately, Dragon had begun to reach for the waistband of Chris' trunks.

Chris was a very attractive young man in a very shady business. He'd become adept at turning away overenthusiastic promoters and locker room veterans without causing offence, managing to keep the progression of his career steady despite the advances he turned down. He knew how to tell someone he was straight while giving the impression that if he wasn't, they'd be the very first person on his list. He knew how to tell someone he was involved and didn't cheat, while putting over how regretful he was about that in this particular instance. He knew how to tell someone that mixing business and pleasure had never worked out well for him, and leave them with the vague feeling that they should consider calling him when he retired.

Yet for some reason, he hadn't done any of those things. He'd stood frozen and mute while Dragon's fingertips had scraped against his abdomen, grasping the front of his trunks and yanking them down to his thighs. The cool air against his cock had brought with it the sudden realisation that he was becoming hard, and Chris had finally found some semblance of the ability to speak.

"What are you doing?" he'd whispered, although the answer had seemed pretty obvious, and no response had been forthcoming. Not a word, not a gesture; just the disconcerting eyeless stare of Dragon's mask.

Long fingers had wrapped around his growing erection, and apart from occasional gasps, Chris had remained silent while Dragon's surprisingly elegant hand stroked him - a little bit rough, but fluid and so good he'd almost felt he could melt into the wall. The crowd downstairs had sounded distant and surreal, and the laughter from the locker room had seemed almost to be mocking him, but Chris had hardly been aware of anything other the hand working him to orgasm and the imposing figure that held him so captivated.

It hadn't taken long before Chris had climaxed, clenching his jaw to keep from moaning aloud and his hands curling into fists at his side. When he'd finished, Dragon had simply turned and walked away without a word, leaving Chris flushed and utterly bemused, staring at the spray of rapidly congealing cum on the floor and rubbing absently at the stray spots that had landed on his trunks.

As he looked out over the street below, Chris couldn't help but smile at how confused he'd been at the time. It wasn't exactly a secret that wrestling attracted more than its fair share of closeted gays and bisexuals, but he'd never thought he'd be one of them. A lot of them had raging issues with homosexuality, but some of them genuinely just hadn't noticed. Chris thought the former were fucked up and the latter were stupid, and even now he didn't understand how his interest in men had flown under his radar for so long, or why. He hadn't been bothered in the slightest by the fact that he'd let another man jack him off, but it hadn't made any sense to him at all. And Dragon's behaviour had made even less sense.

It had gotten more confusing still before the night was over. Once the JCC had been cleared up and Chris had gone out drinking with the boys, Danny had acted as though the whole thing hadn't happened at all, even during the brief moments when he and Chris were alone. He'd been the same affable asshole he'd always been, and nothing he'd said or done, not even the faintest flicker of his expression, had so much as hinted at the clandestine scene he'd instigated earlier. If not for the state of the trunks in his bag, Chris would have started to wonder whether his memory of the evening was a complete fabrication.

Chris had assumed Danny regretted the incident, and although he'd felt inexplicably disappointed by that, he'd had no desire to force the issue. Apart from the fact that he hadn't had a fucking clue what was going on or what to say about it, he also hadn't wanted to further damage his chances of being booked again. Even if things with Danny might be weird for a while, PWG was a great place to work.

The following night, Chris had been in the penultimate match on the card. During the early matches, he'd stuck with his friends and avoided Dragon altogether, hoping that by laying low and being unobtrusive, he could let Danny see that he wouldn't be a problem if he was invited back. It had helped that Alex wasn't there to cause trouble in which Chris would inevitably have become entangled, but eventually Chris had found himself out in the stairwell again, staring sightlessly out of the window.

He'd briefly tried convincing himself that he was out there for the solitude, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best; he'd known before he'd left the locker room that all he really wanted to do was relive the previous night's experience in his head. After a minute or two, he'd given up his pretence and turned around, leaning back against the wall with a sigh, and he'd found himself wishing he'd already changed into his gear so that the wall's chill could help him remember just how he'd felt the night before. He'd closed his eyes and let his head fall back, trying to recreate in his mind's eye the moment when Dragon had snared him.

When the locker room door had opened and closed, Chris had waited a few seconds before opening his eyes, trying to burn as much as he'd managed to recapture of the night before into his memory. But on opening them, he'd found himself staring into the gaping black maw of Dragon's mask.

Chris had immediately started undoing his belt, and before he was even fully aware of what was happening, he'd found himself with his cheek and palms against the wall, his jeans and boxer-briefs halfway down his thighs and hard flesh pressing insistently at his ass, wondering anxiously what the fuck he'd gotten himself into. Sore as he'd been that night though, the memory of those demanding hands on his hips and the low snarl Dragon had given when he came - the only sound he had uttered during either of their encounters - had made Chris' cock stir to life every time he thought of it for days.

_All Star Weekend_ had left Chris with a lot of questions, pertaining both to his sexuality in general and to the situation with Dragon specifically. Many of the things he'd thought he knew about himself were thrown into doubt, and he'd had to reassess a number of things he'd taken for granted, starting with his orientation. He'd wondered for a little while whether he was really a late blooming bisexual or whether Dragon was some kind of exception for him, but the events of the nine months since then had made the answer to that abundantly clear. Chris rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought hungrily about the other appointment he had planned for the night. Dragon was the tip of the iceberg; Chris had learned his appetite for men was every bit as voracious as his appetite for women, and that had been legendary for years.

Chris had always had something of an issue with control. He could handle it when he wasn't in command of a situation, but he did it by taking refuge in his unbending mastery of himself and his own reactions, and it had always been something to be suffered through until it was over. But somehow, without using even a shred of force, Dragon had completely dominated the situation, and moreover, made Chris lose any control he'd had over himself. Chris had spent every moment he was alone with Dragon teetering on the edge of inexplicable panic - and he had _liked_ it. In that one weekend, it had become clear to Chris that he didn't know himself half as well as he'd thought.

In addition, Chris had had to figure out what was going on with Dragon. It wasn't as if he could talk to him about it. He'd come to the realisation that there was a solid distinction between Dragon and Danny though; Danny never touched him. Danny never watched Chris changing in the locker room, never sent shivers down Chris' spine with his predatory growl. He never stalked Chris though the building, radiating barely contained menace and lust. Dragon did things Danny couldn't - or wouldn't - do. Danny was his boss, but for a few minutes every couple of weeks, Dragon owned him.

Even with Dragon though, this thing between them wasn't always there. Chris didn't really understand why, because Dragon wasn't exactly the kind of guy to be ashamed of who he was or what he wanted, and the risk of being caught would have meant nothing to him, but he only ever took Chris on home turf. They'd both worked CZW a month previously, and Dragon's match for the CZW championship had immediately followed Chris' match with Steen. They'd passed each other backstage when Dragon was heading to the ring, and for Chris, it had been electric. He was still amped up from all the exertion, and the mere sight of Dragon had made Chris long to be at the mercy of his aggressive whims. Dragon hadn't even acknowledged him though, much less found some opportunity to corner him and fuck him. Without having to discuss it, Chris had understood that it wasn't any kind of slight, and apart from that one moment, he'd only seen Danny.

Another thing he'd discovered was that Dragon had taken it easy on him, although he would practically have choked on his disbelief if someone had told him so at the time. He assumed Dragon had wanted to ease him into it somewhat, although in this case, 'ease' was a relative term. Dragon wasn't violent or sadistic per se; hurting Chris was never his intention, but he didn't particularly care if it was a byproduct of satisfying his urges. It hadn't been until three or four shows later that he really gave himself free rein, and by then Chris had already been hooked. Chris had learned to take steps beforehand to minimise any pain heading his way. He would lubricate himself and stretch himself out, and he'd taught himself to transfer the instinct to tense up when Dragon hurt him to his thighs or his hands. He'd always known all he'd have had to do to put a stop to it was not hang around in the stairwell - Dragon would take the hint, and take it with good grace - but the sore ass and occasional bruises weren't anything like enough to outweigh the thrill of Dragon's aggressive advances. It was like being fucked by a demanding and implacable god.

Chris shivered, the chill of the January night finally overcoming his excitement. If he'd been waiting for anybody else, he'd have started to wonder whether they were coming at all, but there was no doubt in his mind about Dragon. At PWG, Dragon always came for him at some point during the evening, no matter what. Three weeks previously, Dragon had wrestled a guerrilla warfare match against Steen in the main event, but he had still come. He'd been exhausted and in a lot of pain, his weariness almost palpable, and for once his advance on Chris had been slow not because he was savouring the mounting anticipation on Chris' face, but because he didn't have the energy to move any faster.

When a tired hand had reached for him, Chris had gently brushed it away - the only time he'd ever resisted any of Dragon's intentions. Instead, he'd sunk to his knees, tugging Dragon's pants down a little way and popping open the singlet beneath it, and Dragon had braced his hands against the wall to steady himself while Chris' mouth had worked on him. It was far from the first time Chris had given a blowjob, but the fact that it was the first one he'd given to Dragon had felt important somehow. Chris had ignored the discomfort of his dick straining against the inside of his pants; taking care of Dragon had mattered more to him in that moment, and after all, he'd had plans to get off back at the hotel. He took a pleasure from Dragon releasing in his mouth that wasn't really sexual at all, and as he'd rearranged Dragon's clothing, Dragon had reached down and squeezed his shoulder softly. Dragon had never needed words to express himself.

The following day, they'd worked IWA Mid-South's _Big Ass Christmas Bash_, and if Chris hadn't seen with his own eyes how worn down Dragon had been the night before, he never would have guessed it. Dragon didn't betray even a fraction of the pain and stiffness he must have been feeling. Sometimes, after a few tokes too many of medicinal herb, Chris wondered whether Dragon was entirely human.

Chris' biggest stumbling block had been the inability to understand why Dragon was interested in him at all. It wasn't something he was used to. He wasn't arrogant about it, but Chris knew he was attractive, and he'd never felt unworthy of anyone's attention before - but he'd never had anyone make him question his entire personality before either. He'd known from the start that his appearance had nothing to do with Dragon's desire for him, just as Dragon's looks had no bearing on the all-consuming need he felt when Dragon was nearby. He'd struggled with it for what felt like aeons, but after _Straight To DVD_, he'd finally started to grasp what Dragon saw in him. It all made a lot more sense to him now that he'd been on the other side of the equation, but that night had also demonstrated to him that he still had a great deal to learn about himself. It was daunting, but Chris was enthralled by the voyage of discovery Dragon had set him on.

The curtain barely made a sound as it was twitched aside, and Dragon's wrestling shoes made no noise as he stepped through the doorway and started up the stairs, but to Chris, Dragon's approach was deafening. Panic rose in his throat, his heart hammering so hard he was sure Dragon must be able to hear it too, and he cringed back against the wall a little when Dragon reached for him, despite his attempt to stand firm. But as Dragon's greedy hands ran over his skin, he felt a swell of fierce pride and self-assurance, not so much blanketing the panic as helping him fly ahead of it, and the small part of him that could still think about anything other than Dragon's touch wondered where the journey would lead him tonight.


End file.
